The Billionaire Playboy(41)

Charlie zipped up her dress then checked her reflection in the mirror. “Sounds good.” After running her fingers through her hair she turned toward the bedroom door. “See you in a little while.”

An unexpected twinge of disappointment shot through Jake's chest and he couldn't stop himself from getting out of bed to stop her. “What no goodbye kiss?” He tried to keep his voice teasing as he reached for her.

“Thought I already gave you one,” Charlie answered stepping into his embrace.

Jake didn't argue. Rather he set about giving her a kiss designed to make her regret her decision to leave.



***



“So what do you do when you're not rebuilding towns after a disaster?” Charlie asked as they walked down Deblois Street later that afternoon.

Jake heard the gentle teasing underlying her words and decided to play along. “Mostly chase women in my fast cars. You'd be surprised how fast a woman wearing a pair of Prada heels can run.”

Charlie laughed. It was a rich full laugh and Jake thought it suited her perfectly. A laugh like that couldn't be faked. It was genuine, just like everything else about her. Perhaps that was what drew him to her. There didn't seem to be anything false or contrived about Charlie. What you saw was what you got.

“I wouldn't know. They don't exactly go with my uniform and I doubt they would be comfortable for doing my rounds.” Charlie stopped in front of an art gallery window where several paintings sat on display. Though each depicted a different landscape they all captured life in New England during one of its four distinct seasons.

“Seriously what kinds of things do you work on when you're not out in the field?”

She didn't look at him when she asked the question. Rather she seemed focused on one particular painting in the window which featured a family of four on a picnic. From the city painted in the background there was no mistaking it as a park somewhere in Boston. Although a nice painting, Jake didn't see what made it so interesting to her.

“Administrative business. Fundraising. Follow up on projects. The budget.” Jake turned away from the glass window, more interested in looking at her rather than the art on display. “Do you want to go in and look around? You seem really interested in that painting.”

Charlie's shoulders slumped ever so slightly and she frowned. “I've never been on a picnic.”

He could hear the deep sadness in her voice. A sadness that seemed too intense to be caused by the mere detail she'd shared with him.

“I've eaten outside but I’ve never been on a real picnic like that one.” She nodded toward the painting.

Jake opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it, unsure how to respond. Her slumped shoulders and mournful voice told him something buried deep down caused her sorrow. Something that had nothing to do with picnics, but he didn't know what or how to broach the topic. He was still trying to figure it out when Charlie turned to face him. Although the frown no longer marred her face, he could see the deep sadness lurking in her hazel eyes. Eyes that appeared almost green today thanks to her green top.

“Come on. Let’s keep walking,” she said as she took a step forward.

In silence they fell into step next to each other as they continued up the crowded downtown street. More than anything he wanted to banish the sadness he saw in her eyes. Prior to their stop she'd been laughing and relaxed. The woman walking with him now was quiet and solemn, not at all like the Charlie he'd come to know. Somehow he needed to lighten the atmosphere.

“How about we skip dinner and go for ice cream instead? Pirate's Cove is open. Nobody has better ice cream and we can play a round of mini-golf while we're there.” It seemed like a feeble attempt even to him, but it was better than nothing.

When Charlie didn't answer he added, “Unless you're afraid you'll lose.” In the short time he'd known her he'd learned she was not only headstrong and independent, but competitive. If anything would get her going it was a taunt.

Her reaction to his words didn't disappoint. Charlie's shoulders went back and the spark returned to her eyes. “You're on Mr. Sherbrooke.”

They walked the couple of blocks to Pirate's Cove in silence.

“When you said ice cream and mini-golf, I expected one of those little outside stands with a tiny course,” Charlie said as they joined the long line of customers waiting to place orders. The place they'd walked to was anything but tiny. A large eighteenth-century stone building with a flashing neon open sign sat way back from the road. To the left of the building was an enormous eighteen-hole mini-golf course complete with a windmill and waterfall. Behind the building were six batting cages and off to the far right was a go-cart track.